


Winter

by harryisquirkeh



Series: Lone Wolves [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, Seasons, Series, Wolf!Harry, Wolf!Louis, animal direction, because the wolf is my favourite animal, where all the boys are wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryisquirkeh/pseuds/harryisquirkeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is Menewa (The Warrior), Harry is Chitto (The Brave). They're lone wolves who meet at a change of seasons and form their own pack. Because I love wolves. Sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winter.

 

_He’s Chitto, The Brave._

There is no other sound, but the huff of his steady breathing and the back and forth chirping of two sparrows as he trudges through the freshly fallen snow. He has no knowledge of how long he’s been alone, but when he was separated from his pack, the leaves had bright colors to them and fell all around him, covering the damp the ground with the color of spilt blood. Now the snow is so high, it clings to the fur of his underbelly as he makes his way forward, hoping to stumble upon a dying animal or the leftovers of a previous predator. He hasn’t eaten for days and he’s beginning to feel the strain of hunger as he walks and walks without ever being able to tract even the slightest scent of another wolf, let alone an entire pack. Maybe his old pack…

 

He comes to a clearing of naked trees that sprout way into the sky where their seams blur under the midday sun. He could rest here, right where the light comes down and melts the snow, but his nose catches a scent even before his ears hear a sound and his head shoots up, his eyes darting in between the trees. Far off, right by the wide trunk of a fallen tree is another wolf. He’s hunched over a kill, muzzle red and steaming with still warm blood. He’s a young wolf, adolescent with a strong odour and even though he’s not very big, he’s assertive in his stance.

 

They take each other in for a few minutes. One light brown, small but muscled and cautious, the other one taller, with a darker fur, but skinny and desperately hungry. The small wolf makes a few steps forward, not wandering too far from his meal and he decides to meet him half way. They greet carefully, pressing the side of their faces against each other, sniffing teeth and muzzle, before venturing further into each other’s sides and backsides. They’re both young and a minute into breathing each other in, all the cautious prodding suddenly turns into playful wrestling. Somehow, Chitto knows he can only push so far. When his teeth bite slightly too hard on the smaller wolf’s ear, the low growl and quick nip send him on his back, tail tucked between his hind legs. He whimpers, raising his head only to lick at the chin of his new companion. It’s a dynamic that can work, though there is a gap in between them to be filled, more wolves to make this new thing complete, but for now he knows he’s found a place and he intends to keep it.

 

 

+ 

_He’s Menewa, The Warrior_

 

The company of this lanky, playful young wolf is making him realize how lonely he was. He allows him close to his meal, but eats his fill before sharing. The other one is still a pup, though much larger, but he lies down, chin resting on his front paws, eyes pleading and throat full of whimpers. Soon he’s let in on the rests of the hare and he eats what little is left with sudden contentment.

 

Menewa half observes him, head tilted, but also surveys their surroundings, aware that there is a now an implemented structure. This wolf is a subordinate that depends on him and it’s up to him to keep danger at bay, to make decisions and to teach him whatever he doesn’t know yet. He can do that; he’s ready for his own pack and for other wolves to rely on him. He’s ready to trust and allow another being to get closer and closer. Somehow, he instantly likes this pup with playful eyes and clumsy steps completely empty of defiance. The day crawls to an end and they’ve moved from the clearing, him leading the way and the pup merrily following behind. They need a safe place to rest, a place where they can huddle and help keep each other warm—though their fur is so thick, no body heat can escape and the snowflakes that cover them do not even melt. They find a heap of broken tree limbs and silently agree to remain here for the night. The sun is setting, tainting the sky with dark and light orange on one side, leaving the other to be overtaken by dark blue. The wind is swirling with flurries around them and he watches as the younger wolf jumps, nips at the flakes, his stance playful and his ears erect with excitement. He sits and the deep desire to join the play rises in him. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. It starts softly, but grows and grows until his howl quiets all the other animals in the vicinity. It echoes and evaporates in the wind, but it’s quickly picked up by the younger wolf who’s stopped being agitated and has decided to join him. His howl is an octave lower, but just as powerful as his older counterpart. They howl as darkness completely takes over, until they’ve calmed down and curl up together for a night of sleep.

 

They’re awake before the sun comes up, instinctively slipping into a pack mentality again, knowing that it’s time to go on the hunt. But before they get at it, they share a few minutes of play, the younger wolf’s naturally submissive and overly excited until sharp teeth gently slip over his muzzle to bring him back to order. In a moment, he’s on his back, legs up and when the teeth retreat he’s licking at his alpha’s chin again, whimpering softly.

 

Hunting doesn’t come easy. They’re not very experienced, the younger wolf is loud and gangly, unable to remain calm enough for them to actually surprise anything. It’s midday when they finally corner another hare and make a kill. That’s what most of their days are made of; hunting, playing, howling and intense cuddling. Menewa feels a sense of purpose now that he has another wolf to look after—one that is incredibly trusting and follows his every step. When the wind joins their howling and the snow is falling, twirling until they’re completely buried under it, they rely on each other’s scents. They settle closely, Chitto and Menewa, the brave and the warrior, waiting for the sky to clear and the sun to smile again.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The next season is spring. Obviously. :) I hope you liked it.


End file.
